Good Friday earthquake in 1964 is one of those things that some
of us will always remember where we were and what we were doing
when it hit.

Back then I was a young teenager
still living on the reservation in New Mexico. We didn't have
television (only a few people there could afford it at that time)
so all of our news still came from the radio. Alaska was a place
I had grown up hearing about my whole life. My dad was stationed
in the Aleutian Islands during W.W.II and other young men from
the reservation were stationed in Alaska at the time of the earthquake.
We were all very frightened for the young service men from Laguna
(our village) who were stationed so far away from home. I remember
the radio reports as being so vivid that I could picture what
the devastation looked like. Over the past 40 years, every Good
Friday has me thinking back to the day the "Big One"
hit Alaska. Funny how I ended up living here less than ten years
after the earthquake. Anyway, thanks for the story and reminder.